Grantville Gazette, Volume 70

by Bjorn Hasseler

  "I wouldn't know. There are difficulties in Franconia and I assume the Mounted Constabulary will be sending many patrols there."

  "They won't stay here?" Feld said with some alarm.

  "There will always be some here at headquarters, but most of the troopers will be patrolling the main roads and areas away from the larger cities."

  "We don't have many watchmen. The militia mans the gates and the city wall."

  "That reminds me. I noticed the militia on my arrival. Who is the wachtmeister? There was an incident last night. A man tried to hamstring some horses and was killed during the commission of the crime."

  "Crime! Uh, we don't really have much crime. Herr Heinrich Buch, one of our council members, oversees the watch and represents them, among others, in the council."

  "How many watchmen do you have?"

  "I'm not sure of the actual number. Herr Buch is the de facto watchtmeister. I think they're thirty-five or forty."

  "That's all?"

  "Well, the militia protects the city; the gunsmiths take care of their part of Suhl. The rest of Suhl is quiet. There haven't been any complaints and the cost is expensive."

  "Suhl looks to be prosperous. You shouldn't have any difficulty raising the funds to add more."

  "There are …concerns."

  Archie watched the bürgermeister sitting across from him. The situation wasn't new. Cities always seem to shortchange their safety whether external or internal, especially when no danger was on the horizon. "Neither the SoTF Court, the Marshal's Service nor the Constabulary is responsible for running Suhl. You are. It's up to you and the council."

  "Yes, yes, we know. When we heard the rumor that the Mounted Constabulary was coming we thought…"

  Archie said nothing. He was beginning to understand why he and Dieter were being welcomed so enthusiastically. "My deputy and I work for the court and answer to them. Suhl is your responsibility. I would suggest you and the city council review your needs. I believe you have some. That said, to whom should I report the incident?"

  "Oh, well, Herr Buch, I suppose. We rarely have anything untoward reported."

  "Very well, I'll pay him a visit. By the way, would you suggest someone I could see about what is available for a courthouse? The constabulary will use the former Swedish barracks."

  Feld seemed startled at that piece of information. "I'll check with the council. One of them should know. I'll ask them to see you."

  "Good, good. I appreciate your assistance."

  Feld glanced at Archie, looked down to the envelope still in his hand and nodded. Rising, he said, "I'll present this to the council. Guten Tag, Herr Marshal."

  "Guten Tag, Herr Bürgermeister."

  ****

  Dieter found the riverside gate manned by a very young militiaman, an apprentice to a local gunsmith he discovered. The youngster had a blue cloth tied to his sleeve and he was watching a farmer pass through the gate in an ox-drawn cart. The gate guard was unarmed as far as Dieter could see. He was just standing at the side of the gate watching people go and come. After a brief conversation, Dieter discovered the name of the inn favored by the journeymen and master gunsmiths. It was helpful. He decided to check the barracks next. He expected them to need minor repairs being unused over the winter.

  ****

  After Feld departed, Archie had some time before his appointment with Johann Zeitts. The hard wooden chair made his hip ache, and he felt tired. He hadn't slept well. The bed here was a simple pallet on a wooden frame. He would be sixty this year and he seemed to feel every one of those years. God, I miss the twentieth century. Marjorie was bringing some of their furniture when she and Greta came to Suhl. He hoped she would be able to bring his recliner. Hard beds made him restless and cost him sleep. Sleeping on the ground these last couple of days didn't help, either. It seemed the only time he could sleep well was in his recliner.

  The innkeeper's wife cleaned up the remains of breakfast and swept the floor and the hallway to the stable. Archie made a mental note to tip her for her efforts.

  He reassembled the Colt Commander, inserted a loaded magazine, chambered a round, and slipped it into his shoulder holster. The other Colt Commander was already on his belt. Rising from the table, he picked up his hat and walked through the inn's common room and out the front door. Johann Zeitts would be waiting for him at his shop. Archie hadn't taken but a few steps before he saw a familiar face.

  "Hi, Archie. How are ya?" Anse Hatfield said. "I heard you were in town so I came over to visit."

  "Anse! Good to see you. It's been, what, a year or more since we last met?"

  "Yeah, 'bout that. It's good to see a familiar up-time face."

  "I was just going out. I have an appointment."

  "That's OK, I'll come along if that's all right? We can talk along the way."

  ****

  Dieter approached the barracks and was surprised to see a number of workers on the site. They appeared to be tearing down the palisade walls. He walked up to the one who seemed to be in charge and asked what was going on.

  "None of your business," Dieter was told.

  "I'm Deputy Marshal Issler." Dieter showed them his badge. "That is SoTF property and the barracks of the Mounted Constabulary troop that should be arriving shortly. That makes it my business."

  "Don't know anything about that. I was told to tear down the walls and that's what I'm going to do."

  "Who's your boss?"

  "That's none of your business, either. Now go or we'll make you go."

  Dieter saw that he was outnumbered by six to one. He'd better pass this to Archie. "I'll be back. I strongly suggest you have your boss here when I return."

  ****

  "…I managed some leave to talk over some business with Pat Johnson, on condition I bring back more guns, so I'll be leaving in a few days to rejoin the army. There won't be many up-timers here after that, just Pat, the Reardons, Gary and Gaylynn, and maybe one or two others," Anse Hatfield said.

  "Marjorie is coming in a few weeks along with Dieter's wife, Greta. I don't think there will be any more up-timers here after she arrives." After a pause, Archie said,

  "You just didn't come to see me because we're old friends. What's on your mind?"

  "There's a problem here, a gang. I was starting to get a handle on it but now I'm leaving. I wanted to fill you in and ask if you'd look into it."

  "A gang that's running a protection and extortion racket?"

  "Yeah, among other things."

  "I've heard. I met one of them last night who was trying to cripple a horse. I understand he's one of Achen's men. Who is this Achen?"

  "I don't know too much. I've heard that he's the new son-in-law of one of the city councilmen. They don't try much in my part of town but they work the rest of Suhl and outside the gates. The watch never seems to be around when something happens. When they finally show up, they don't do much. No one is caught and things just seem to get worse. It's getting so that it's not safe on the streets after dark."

  "I thought the Jaegers were helping to take care of things?"

  "Only in our part of town, and most of them are gone."

  "That's twice you've said, 'my part of town.' What do you mean?"

  "Where the gunsmiths are, their shops and homes. After the, ahhh, incident last year, they've kept the peace in their area. The city council is supposed to handle the rest of town. They don't. They think the militia is enough …you can't keep the peace by manning the walls and gates with unarmed boys."

  "And the watch?"

  "They seem more interested in patrolling the 'better' parts of town. The homes and businesses of the council members and others."

  "I met with Feld, the bürgermeister, this morning. He said they only have thirty-five to forty watchmen for the whole town."

  "I know. It's one of the problems here in Suhl. Saves them money, don'cha know. I'm surprised the council hasn't called for help. I've heard rumors that the council is deadlocked on that."


  "They need about seventy-five to a hundred men if they are to have good day and night patrols," Anse continued. "They think the militia will fill in for their lack of watchmen. The militia has to provide their own weapons, and most militia members work for the gunsmiths and their families."

  "Where have I heard this before?"

  "Yeah. Almost like old times."

  "Dieter Issler is my deputy—do you know him?"

  "No …don't think I do."

  "He's out scouting the town. I'd appreciate it if you'd have a talk with Pat and Gary and ask them to keep their ears open and give us a holler if they hear anything we should know."

  "I can do that. I'm glad Pat and Gary aren't in the army. I don't really want to go but I haven't a choice."

  "They kicked me, Max Huffman, and Harley Thomas out of the army and made us marshals. Frankly, I'm glad I'm not in anymore."

  "I better get back. I'll drop by one more time before I leave."

  "Thanks, Anse, I appreciate it."

  ****

  Ruben Blumroder looked up from his workbench when Anse walked through the door. "Did you meet him?"

  "Yep. I think ol' Arch will do. He asked me about Achen before I had a chance. He's already got some feelers out gathering information."

  "Tell me about him."

  "He's hard to describe. He's a SoTF marshal now. He was a deputy sheriff up-time, an army vet, up-time, not just here. He's a combat vet, too."

  "What's he like?"

  "Well, like many up-timers, Archie has some …eccentricities. He has always been a cowboy fan. Have you heard about Westerns?"

  "Ja, but I don't think I understand."

  "Westerns are stories about the American West in the nineteenth century—the American Frontier. Archie lives it. Up-time he was a member of a group that had action shooting matches using old-style weapons—revolvers, rifles, usually lever-action, double-barreled shotguns, weapons that were common in the nineteenth century. Sometime they even shoot from horseback, and they dressed up in costumes like those from the West. Archie, too. Like I said, he lives it."

  "Is he crazy?"

  "No. Absolutely not. But, when we up-timers arrived here in the middle of the Thirty Years war, it was a shock. People reacted differently. Some did well, some didn't. Everyone was affected in some form or another. Living as a real Old West marshal is Archie's way of coping—but don't doubt his competency. That would be a mistake. His, uh, eccentricity aside, he's a tough lawman."

  "Good! We need someone like that."

  "I think Archie will do."

  "I have a meeting tonight with some of the other craftmasters. I'll tell them about our new marshal."

  ****

  "Guten Tag, Herr Zeitts," Archie said as he entered Zeitts' workshop.

  "Guten Tag, Herr Marshal."

  "Well, what do you think." Archie pointed to the disassembled saddle on Zeitts' workbench.

  "I can do it," Zeitts affirmed.

  When the haggling was over, Zeitts and Archie had an agreement. Zeitts would finish the saddle in two weeks unless there was an unforeseen circumstance to delay delivery.

  Archie and Johann Zeitts were shaking hands on the deal when Christian entered the workshop with the aid of his brother. Christian had been badly beaten, one eye almost closed.

  "What happened?" Johann asked rushing to Christian's side.

  "Achen's men caught him outside. They were looking for their man who didn't come home last night. It was their two on Christian until I arrived."

  "Where are they?" Archie asked referring to Achen's men. "Are they still around?"

  "They ran up the street. I don't know where. Don't go after them," Han said. "They outnumber you."

  "I think I can handle them." Archie said as he left the shop. Outside he surveyed the scene. Zeitts' shop was next to the city's wall. A ring road ran parallel to the wall with homes and shops lining the cobblestoned street. A number of people were out walking the street but none appeared to be watching Zeitts' shop.

  "They ran that way," Hans said, pointing to the left. The street ended where it met another that led to the eastern gate.

  "Danke. Tell your father I'll look into this." With that, he stepped into the street and proceeded in search of Christian's assailants.

  The buildings on the left side of the street abutted but did not actually touch the city wall. This gap provided space for wall maintenance and access in time of need. The right side of the street was like the left with narrow alleys appearing from time to time between buildings giving access to another alley to the rear.

  I need a map, Archie thought. This place is a maze. You could hide an army in these alleys and no one would know.

  Archie reached the intersection without seeing anyone or anything suspicious. He had stopped a few passersby, asking if they had seen two men running down the street and no one had …or at least would not admit that they had. That was the problem with a gang. People were intimidated. Individually, they were at the gang's mercy. If they united, the gang would be ineffective and would soon be removed or would leave for easier pickings.

  Archie headed back to the inn. He'd not had any lunch, and he was getting hungry. After he had eaten, he thought he would visit Ruben Blumroder. He seemed to be the real leader of Suhl. Maybe Blumroder would have more information.

  ****

  Achen's two men watched the marshal walk past the alley where they had hidden themselves. Achen would not be pleased with their failure to extract information from the younger Zeitts.

  Friedrich Achen was sitting in a corner of the taproom of Der Bulle und Bär, his favorite inn, when his two men entered. They walked over to Achen's table and sat.

  "What did you find?" he asked.

  "Nothing. We were interrupted. Zeitts' brother and some neighbors came before we had the younger one softened up. The new marshal was there, too, so we left."

  "Conrad's dead. One of the Zeitts, maybe the marshal, killed him."

  "How did you know?"

  "Feld told my father-in-law who told me. Also, the other marshal, the deputy, was nosing around the barracks. He told the men to stop working. They refused but the deputy will be back, probably with the marshal to stop them."

  "Shall we be there, too? Together we would have enough to take both of them."

  "Do so. Keep watch. When the workers refuse, join them and overwhelm the marshals. Don't let them get away."

  "You want them dead?"

  "No, not yet. I need to know why they're here."

  "Your father-in-law doesn't know?"

  "He says not. I'm not sure I believe him."

  "We'll find out. The marshal doesn't look all that strong. He uses a cane."

  "Go. Wait for them as long as it takes."

  ****

  After following the directions from several people, Archie arrived at Ruben Blumroder's shop located on the same street as Pat Johnson's US Waffenfabrik. He heard a shot from the rear of the building. Instead of entering the front, Archie walked down the adjacent alley to the rear where Blumroder and a couple of men were testing long arms. He stood watching them load the long guns with patched balls. Rifles, he assumed. The target was a wooden board attached to a large square wooden post that was at least a foot on each side. There were numerous holes in the board.

  Bam! One of the men fired the rifle which produced a cloud of white smoke. Archie noticed the rifle produced significant recoil.

  Guten Tag! Archie called as another shooter stepped forward to the line.

  Ruben Blumroder, at least that is whom Archie assumed the older man was, appeared startled when Archie called. He turned his head swiftly and gave Archie a quick inspection. He stepped away from the other two, who ignored Archie's interruption once the elder man started walking towards the visitor.

  "Herr Marshal Mitchell, I presume?"

  "The same. I assume you are Herr Ruben Blumroder?"

  "The same," he said with a grin. "I was going to visit you when I h
ad some time. Herr Hatfield told me you arrived yesterday. And here you are. What is the occasion for your visit?"

  "I don't want to interrupt your work but I would like to talk with you about Suhl. I understand you will be the city's representative to the SoTF legislature."

  "Ja, that's so. The craftmasters and their people elected me. We outvoted our opponents."

  "The craftmasters were able to control fifty percent of the votes?"

  "Not alone …but with some other allies, we did."

  "Politics?"

  "Politics," he confirmed. "Come, let us go inside. I have some cider that I've been thinking about all day."

  Archie chuckled and followed Blumroder into the rear of his shop. Inside the door, Archie stopped to let his eyes become accustomed to the unlit room. The few light sources were the open door and two windows facing the alley that Archie had used to reach the rear of the shop. To one side were three rifling machines next to a small forge that appeared to be used to make small metal pieces that would eventually become parts for the rifle's lock.

  Blumroder walked down the aisle to a table where rifles and long arms were assembled. He picked up a rifle and handed it to Archie. "This is a copy, as best we can determine, of your Kentucky rifle. It's .50 caliber. Pat Johnson had a …magazine? …catalog? …that had an exploded view of this rifle. We created our molds from that and refined the final product to be this rifle."

  To Archie, it appeared to be very much like a flintlock Kentucky rifle he had once fired. The smooth honey-colored wooden stock, forearm and ramrod were expertly finished and varnished with fine checkering at the grip behind the trigger and at two points along the sides of the forearm. The brass side-plates and patch-box were polished to a mirror-sheen that brought out the detail of the light engraving depicting a hunting scene. He hefted the rifle and found it to be perfectly balanced. "A fine piece of work," he told Blumroder.

  "Danke. It is intended as a gift for the Landgrave of Hesse-Kassel. A working rifle, not some pretty piece that will never be fired. I can't say who ordered it but the commission was very welcome."

  "I repeat, a very fine piece of work."

  "A man who knows his weapons, I see."

  "Of necessity. A reliable, accurate firearm can mean the difference between life or death. A man can be known by his weapon. I'm used to mine."